


The Last Train to Nagasaki

by Arcadias_Fire



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Humor, Normal Life, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Randomness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 12:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14811518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcadias_Fire/pseuds/Arcadias_Fire
Summary: On his last night in Germany, Bob was strolling back to his hotel from a great bar he’d found when all of a sudden he was surrounded by a flood of panicking people in fancy clothes. Something blue shot through the air and an incoming police car exploded.The only thing going through Bob’s mind was:oh no, not again.***Once upon a time there was an ordinary man who lived in an extraordinary world. His name was Bob. From New Mexico, to New York, Bob really gets to see it all. It might get to be too much for a normal guy...





	The Last Train to Nagasaki

**Author's Note:**

> The story of the MCU through the eyes of a normal human who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. A lot.

 

Once upon a time there was an ordinary man who lived in an extraordinary world. His name was Bob. He was thirty years old, single, thin, and around the time our story begins his pale brown hair was starting to thin a bit. Bob made his modest living as a freelance copywriter. He’d recently moved from California to New Mexico. He loved his work, the freedom it brought him, and the small amounts of creativity it granted. He regularly took his laptop to the local diner to enjoy the feel of people close by, the gossip that floated around him, and the diner’s surprisingly good coffee. 

Today, the diner was abuzz with the rumor that a downed satellite had crashed in the nearby desert and government men were swarming all over it. They were far enough away from Roswell that the immediate talk wasn’t solid aliens, but it  _ was _ still New Mexico, so Bob heard some mutterings about “Grays” in the corners. Other than the vague conspiracy theory talk and a moment roundabout 9:30 when a fellow customer smashed a coffee cup, it was a quiet morning in the diner. 

Bob kept at his work most of the day. After lunch he relocated to the library, ensconced in the quiet darkness until his stomach rumbled and he tootled home for the evening and some food. After dinner, he decided to head  to the local bar for a beer. It was only a few blocks from his apartment, and was usually a fun evening. He might even shoot some pool…

Just his luck, no sooner had Bob started his second Bud than a fight broke out. Bar fights were uncommon at this particular watering hole, despite being a bare step up from a dive. Fights were  _ not _ Bob’s thing, so he hid in a corner as an older man and a young blond guy the size of a truck tossed a couple of the local irritations into oblivion. 

Shaken, Bob crept home. He was too wound up to sleep, so he stared out his window at the sky until after the dawn came bright and gold like honey over the dessert. Finally exhausted, he curled up in his empty bed and slept. 

 

o0o

 

The next thing Bob knew, an explosion rocked his apartment building. He scrambled out of bed to look out his window. There was a giant metal man in the streets, blasting cars with its  _ face. _ He’d heard of Tony Stark’s Iron Man and the rumor that he’d fought something even larger, but  _ this? _ He scrambled into jeans and a tee-shirt, sliding a pair of sandals onto his feet, just in case he had to run. He debated this for long seconds before another blast from the robot impacted against the base of the old brick building. His apartment took on an alarming angle and all the lights went out.    


Bob grabbed his computer bag - mostly out of habit -  and ran down the stairs and out into the heat. Unfortunately, his car was now a smoldering pile of wreckage, so he was forced to duck and cover while a group of men and a woman all in bright silver armor attacked the giant robot with swords. 

_ What the hell? _

He cowered as the people shouted at the robot - it didn’t move how he would have expected a robot to move, it was so fluid - until a man in a dark suit and sunglasses dragged him away from the mayhem. Eventually Bob found himself in the back of George Fremont’s ancient pickup truck being driven away from what was left his home.  

 

o0o

 

In the weeks following the New Mexico incident, Bob felt he was at a bit of a loss for what to do with himself. He wrote a couple of articles about the events which received some acclaim. He was a little surprised that a MIB didn’t show up at his hotel room to take him away, but the world seemed to be adjusting to the weirdness that Iron Man had apparently brought with him. Bob received a decent settlement from his insurance company due to all the damage and emotional turmoil he’d suffered, but kept working anyway. 

One day, completely out of the blue, he received a job offer from a company in New York. Bob looked at the email in shock. The salary was excellent, plus full benefits. He’d be writing ad copy - his specialty - and the occasional article, with the opportunity to move into something more creative later. It was a bit too good to be true, so he Googled the company. They were legit, well rated, and looked fun. Yes, he’d have to work at an office rather than wherever he wanted, but it was a huge step up. So he took the job and prepared to move to the East Coast. 

 

o0o

 

The salary of his new job was good enough that Bob could afford a small one bedroom apartment in Queens without difficulty. He probably could have gotten something bigger, but this was fine. It was just him, after all. Bob had never lived in a city like New York. Cities on the West Coast weren’t anything  _ like _ New York. He was used to sprawl and space, not cramped quarters  so full of life that they felt ready to burst. 

Bob didn’t have his own office at his new job. He had a cubical. It was a  _ nice _ cubicle though; bigger than he he had expected, and he could see out one of the windows of the open office. He could see the edge of Stark Tower if he craned his neck at just the right angle, a sliver of “S”. 

After six months of his new job, Bob had accrued enough vacation time and money to take a vacation. He decided to visit Germany, since his grandparents had lived there before WWII. It felt a little weird to be coming to a country where his ancestors had been forced to flee because of who they were, but the Germans he met were so  _ nice _ . The beer was excellent - he was never going back to Budweiser after this - but the food was too heavy for his tastes. All in all, an enjoyable trip.

On his last night in town, Bob was strolling back to his hotel from a great bar he’d found when all of a sudden he was surrounded by a flood of panicking people in fancy clothes. Something blue shot through the air and an incoming police car exploded. 

The only thing going through Bob’s mind was:  _ oh no, not again.  _

A man, no, several copies of a man, in black and gold armor, a golden staff in their hands, appeared at corners around the crowd -  _ armor? Again? _ \- corralling the frightened masses. One of the images said something Bob didn’t quite catch in his own confusion. Suddenly everyone in the panicked group shifted all at once, as a collective. Or a herd.

“I said  _ kneel!” _

_ Oh. That’s what he said. Wait, did he say that in English or German? _

Everyone knelt, Bob included. 

“Is not this simpler?” the man in the armor said as he walked - strolled - through the kneeling crowd. “Is not this your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity.” He was almost to where Bob knelt now. “You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.” 

An older man who knelt between Bob and the armored man got slowly to his feet. 

_ Are you nuts? _ He looked at the older man in confusion as he spoke in German. Bob’s German was limited to “where’s the bathroom” and “thank you”, and the old man didn’t say either of those.

“There are no men like me,” the armored man replied. 

Bob wondered at the one sided conversation. Clearly the old man was standing up to this strange armored invader, no matter how crazy that seemed. Bob reflected on the character of the German people he’d met, how pleasant they all were. They were still in shock from the war despite the many decades that had passed. The old man probably remembered it from his childhood, or at least learned the stories from those who did. Even as Bob knelt there, quite sure there was a good chance he was about to die, he wished he had that kind of courage. 

“Look to your elder, people,” the armored man said in a carrying voice, smug smile on his face. “Let him be an example.” He pointed the staff a the old man and Bob ducked. 

The next few seconds were pure confusion. A blue and white blur intercepted the bolt of energy that burst out of the staff, and the ricochet knocked the armored man to the ground. Bob managed to look up.  _ Is that… Captain America? _ He’d heard a rumor that the WWII hero had been found, but he’d found it hard to believe. The world couldn’t possibly be  _ that _ strange. Could it?

“You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everyone else, we ended up disagreeing.” 

_ Yup, Captain America. FML.   _   


“The soldier.” The armored man got to his feet and laughed. “A man out of time.”

Captain America stood proud. “I’m not the one who's out of time.”

Bob looked up at a strange noise in the sky. An oddly shaped plane flew in and a woman’s voice called out through the speakers. “Loki, drop the weapon and stand down.” 

This was a conflict of superhumans and gods. Bob, the ordinary human, decided now would be an excellent time to GTFO. He scrambled away with a sizable portion of the crowd. When music - was that  _ AC/DC?  _ \- blasted from behind him, he knew he’d made the right choice. He remembered the advice his grandpa gave him at his high school graduation: When someone starts blasting the angry 80s rock, you high-tail it out of there.

Bob made it back to his hotel room and collapsed against the door, breathing hard. Eventually he managed to get to the bed. He turned on the TV and found an English language news station. Distant, confused footage played on the screen. Iron Man, Captain America and an unidentified plane had battled another unknown entity -  _ Loki _ \- and escorted said entity into custody after the altercation. 

Bob breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way he’d be able to sleep tonight, but maybe on the plane. He pulled out his laptop and started in on an article about the Stuttgart attack. 

His vacation had been nice, up until tonight, but he thanked God that by this time tomorrow, he’d be back in New York.

 

o0o

 

Bob’s colleagues were incredulous when he told them of the attack on Stuttgart. Anything involving Iron Man and Captain America was sure to make the news, even if it was in Europe, but no one believed he’d actually been there. He hadn’t had the presence of mind to take pictures with his phone; he’d been far too frightened. 

Eventually Bob noticed that his jacket - his  _ favorite  _ jacket - had been singed by the ricochet from Loki’s blast at the old man. He showed it to everyone as they sat in the break room eating Phyllis’s birthday cake, and that was enough to finally convince his coworkers that that yes, he had been there. 

That was when all hell broke loose. 

Flickers from the direction of Stark Tower caught the office’s attention. 

“What the…?” Gary from accounting went to the window and peered at the sky. 

Bob had a terrible sinking feeling deep in his chest. He recognized that feeling, like seeing a jerk from high school you never hoped you’d see again show up at your favorite bar.

A hole opened up in the sky, and monsters began to pour out.

“We need to get underground,” he said calmly. “Everyone, we need to evacuate the building. It’ll be safe in the subway. Gary, get away from the window!” 

The accountant scoffed at him and pulled his phone out of his pocket to take video of the Tower. Seconds later a creature on some sort of flying vehicle zoomed past and the windows rattled like there was an earthquake. “Okay Bob, maybe you’re right.” 

The office filed down the ten flights of stairs in a barely-suppressed panic, Bob leading them out into the street and to the nearest subway entrance. 

Explosions rocked above them. 

The group cowered in the subway. Bob felt strangely calm; after everything he’d been through so far, this wasn’t that bad. Sure, there were flying death surfers just a few feet above them, but at least no one was shooting in Bob’s direction specifically. Or maybe it was because he had people to look after. Every other time, he'd been on his own. Maybe he should start a blog? Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. He could share his experiences with a wider audience, publish his articles all in one place...

Eventually the explosions stopped. There was still screaming; people were injured. After a while, a handful of first responders arrived to check everyone over. 

Aliens. That's what they were saying. Not like the Asgardians, who looked just like uncommonly attractive humans. Actual aliens. From space. There were bodies, and the remains of Star Trek technology strewn across the streets of New York. It was undeniable. They weren't alone in the universe. 

After super heroes, aliens seemed like the next logical step, really. 

In the weeks that followed, Bob wrote more articles, this time talking about his experience with the Invasion of New York. Part of him wondered if Stuttgart had been related at all. No one mentioned an armored man - other than Iron Man and Thor - just aliens, but that didn't really mean anything. Bob was certain they weren't getting the whole story. 

Nothing new about that. 

Bob's company seemed to be aware of his articles and his new blog. He got a promotion which included a cube near the window and a raise. Bob wasn't sure how his felt about about his window-proximity, although it did give him an excellent view of Avengers Tower - formerly Stark Tower. Some days that made him feel a little better about world. Other days, much, much worse.

He attended the Stark Expo - it was right around the corner, so to speak - and had a lovely time. Until robots started attacking. This time he wasn’t going to be outdone, so he pulled out his phone to record the onslaught. 

The clips went viral. 

He had enough extra income from his promotion - plus the revenue from his blog - to take another European vacation. Anywhere but Germany. The first week in England was glorious. London was beautiful, like the better aspects of cities on both the East and West coast at once, but old. Bob could feel the weight of the centuries with every breath. He visited most of the major tourist sights without any incident. Well, there was the naked man at Stonehenge, but everyone assured him that was normal, even if the the man did strike Bob as a little familiar.

Shortly after the naked henge incident, Bob took a day trip to Greenwich. During college he had a small obsession with the development of longitude, and Greenwich was important to that history. He visited museums, saw sights. The spaceship that manifested seemingly out of nowhere was just a bonus. 

He watched from a relatively protected spot as Thor -  _ again? _ \- flew past several times, his great big hammer thrust out for all the world to see. When the enormous mechanical t-square of a ship collapsed, Bob got great footage of it vanishing into thin air. 

By this point, Bob was starting to believe he might be cursed. Superheros, alien invasions, and explosions happening in New York, that made sense.  _ Everything _ happened in New York. It wasn’t the Big Apple without the occasional explosion. But he'd gone on vacation twice in the past 18 months, and both times he'd seen men in armor doing weird shit. In fact, he'd seen Thor three times now. Crazy. 

These days, it no longer felt comfortable to stay in New York. Avengers Tower was just making him nervous now, not better. He asked around, and soon found out that HR had a post open at the DC office though, if he wanted to transfer. 

Bob hated DC. It was flat, hot in an unpleasantly humid way, and full of politicians. The Smithsonian was nice - Bob was a sucker for a good museum - but that was it. The National Mall was just a waste of space. 

His commute took him over the Potomac every day, and he couldn't help but wonder about the weirdly shaped high security building in the middle of the river.

When one day it was on fire and a helicarrier plunging towards it like a bat heading  _ into _ hell, New York didn't seem so bad.

Where could he possibly go which was out of the way? Eastern Europe? Sokovia. He'd never even  _ heard _ of Sokovia. 

Oh boy, was that a mistake. 

Sure, the footage was fantastic, but Bob was pretty sure it wasn't worth it. He’d escaped with his life, that was enough. 

Back to New York then. If things were going to happen wherever he went, then he might as well stay where the action was. 

Soon after, his uncle died, and Bob had to head home to Missouri for the funeral. He hadn’t been home in an age. His mother still lived in the small town he grew up in. It was so normal… There was a rumor that one of the kids from his elementary school had been abducted by aliens, but what small town didn’t have rumors like that? Bob hadn’t believed it growing up, no matter how convincing the photos on the town bulletin board had looked. Now, it didn’t seem so weird.

The huge wall of glowing golden… something swamping over the town as Bob drove in just made him sigh. New Mexico all over again. 

The footage for his blog was great, he did have have to admit. 

The trip back to New York was uneventful, thank goodness. New York was… well, New York. One day as we walked to work, Bob was fairly certain he saw a tall dark man in an incredibly expensive looking black suit fall through the sidewalk - he must have missed a manhole or something. And the bodega across from his apartment in Queens exploded, but that was just New York. It wasn’t like they needed aliens to blow shit up, humans could do it just fine on their own. 

 

o0o

 

Bob was taking a stroll through Central Park when a tall black man in a black leather trench coat approached him. 

“Robert Smith?”

Bob turned to the man and was startled to see he had a black eye-patch over one eye. “Yes?”

“My name is Nick Fury.” He held out his hand. 

Bob took it; the other man had a solid handshake. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Do you have a moment to talk, Mr. Smith?”

“Sure.” 

The taller man fell into step with Bob and they walked through the park for a long moment before he spoke. “Have you ever heard of a man named Tsutomu Yamaguchi, Mr. Smith?”

Bob shook his head. 

Fury continued. “Yamaguchi-san was a businessman in Japan in the 1940s. He lived in Nagasaki, worked for Mitsubishi Heavy Industries. On August 6th of 1945 he was visiting Hiroshima on business.” The tall man looked down at Bob. “I assume you know what happened on August 6th of 1945 in Hiroshima?”

Bob nodded, swallowed hard. “The first atomic bombing of Japan.” 

Fury nodded. “Yamaguchi-san was wounded, but he still returned home, to work. He told his co-workers what happened but nobody believed him. His boss was actually dressing him down when the second bomb dropped three days later.” 

“Holy shit.” 

“Holy shit indeed, Mr. Smith.” Fury replied. “Yamaguchi-san survived the second bombing as well. Survived for many decades, in fact. He died of stomach cancer at the age of 93 just a few years ago.” 

Bob thought about the story of this incredibly lucky - or unlucky - Japanese man for a while. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, Mr. Smith, you have been at the location of most of the major alien events of the past six years, and survived them all. New Mexico, Stuttgart, New York, Greenwich, Sokovia, you were there for them all.” 

“I was in DC when the helicarriers fell too,” Bob pointed out. “And Manchester for that weird amber thing.” 

“So you can see why I might be bringing up Yamaguchi-san.”

Bob nodded. “I suppose.” He looked over. “Who are you? I assume you’re not just a fan of my blog.” 

“At the moment, I’m retired. I don’t really exist, actually, but I still keep my eye out for anything unusual going on the world.” 

“And you think I’m unusual? I’m just at the right place at the right time. Or the wrong one, depending on how you look at it.” 

“That’s statistically unlikely, Mr. Smith.” 

Bob huffed a small laugh. “I’m aware of that, but it’s not like I have powers or anything.” 

“Luck can be a superpower.” 

“Then why haven’t I won the lottery?” Bob shook his head. “There’s nothing remarkable about me, Mr. Fury.” 

“Whether there’s anything remarkable about you or not, you do end up in remarkable places at remarkable times.” Fury folded his hands behind his back. 

“I live in New York, everything weird happens there. I’ve been on a few European vacations, went home for a funeral. It’s just a coincidence.” 

“If you say so.”

Bob looked sharply at the taller man. Fury clearly didn’t believe him, but what could he say? “What did you want from me, Mr. Fury?”

“I was hoping you might be willing to tell me where your next vacation might be.” 

Bob considered that for a long moment before replying. “I was thinking about going to Africa. I’ve never been.” 

“Africa’s a big continent, Mr. Smith.” 

“Kenya, if you must know. The Lake Turkana region. I’d like to go to Wakanda, but they don’t really let tourists in.” 

Fury looked at him sharply with his single eye. “And after that?” 

“I don’t know. Back home to New York, probably. I don’t think it really matters.” 

Fury’s eyebrows went up. “Thank you Mr. Smith, that’s very helpful.”

“Is it?” Bob looked over. “Glad to help, I guess.” 

“If any of that changes, let me know.” Fury reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “We watch your blog, but if something comes up, call me.” 

Bob took the card. “Will this help?”

Fury tilted his head. “You never know.” 

“Okay. Should I cancel my trip to Africa?” 

“No need, Mr. Smith.” 

Bob frowned. 

“You’ll be fine, after all. Remember Yamaguchi-san. I’m sure you’ll live to a ripe old age.” 

Bob sighed. “We should all be so lucky.”

Fury laughed. “I’m glad we’re not. Have a good life, Mr. Smith. I hope I don’t need to talk to you again.” He held out his hand to Bob. They shook and Fury walked away. 

Bob sighed. “Could my life get weirder? I guess it can.” He headed for the subway, back to his apartment in Queens. Maybe he should consider moving to Hell’s Kitchen? The new developments there were supposed to be pretty nice. 

 

Nah, Queens was good enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> The story of Tsutomu Yamaguchi is completely true. This story occurred to me as I rewatched all of the MCU films in preparation for IW and is partially inspired by _Marvels_ by Kurt Busiek and Alex Ross. 
> 
> I wrote a Gen fic! Go me! And Loki's hardly in it at all...


End file.
